


From Silence to Smiles

by Zelinxia



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: CLAMPkink, Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, M/M, POV Second Person, Psychological Trauma, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:18:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelinxia/pseuds/Zelinxia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Comforting always comes with a price. But after something awful happens in Yama, Fai lets himself be comforted by Kurogane, bridging them closer in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Silence to Smiles

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers/Warnings: Set in Yama. Spoilers for Fai's past. There is a short scene of vivid traumatic flashbacks.
> 
> Written for a prompt at Dreamwidth's CLAMPkink community, where Kurogane catches Fai crying for the first time in Yama. Fai's honesty and Kurogane's kindness leads to comfort sex. I like the prompt because it challenged me to think what would upset Fai so much that he would cry.

_There is love in our bodies and it holds us together  
But pulls us apart when we're holding each other  
We all want something to hold in the night  
We don't care if it hurts or we're holding too tight_  
\- “Hardest of Hearts” – Florence + The Machine

War, you think wearily, brings nothing but pain.

You can fight all you want to gain something or win that someone or to earn the right to possess a land. 

But in the end, war brings nothing but regret.

You know this. You know it perfectly well, because you had been involved in wars against an unknown enemy for many years under your loyalty to Ashura-ou. Magic, offensive magic to be precise, is your forte, and it was precisely because of that the Celesian king had entrusted you to line up among the best of the ranks in his army, even occasionally lead other court magicians in the bloody battles to protect Luval. And you willingly did, because it was what your king had wished for you, and so you felt a sense of duty and honor to serve the land you still call home. Even though participating in bloody wars and killing other people goes against your principles and comfort, you thought for so long that at the very least nothing horrible could go awry. 

But you were wrong. 

And you wish you weren’t.

Because all that time the unknown enemy that had been responsible for the murder of innocent Celesians had been Ashura-ou himself, who was driven to kill to get stronger. In the end, you’re responsible for your king’s insanity because he had gone on his illogical, murderous path for your sake. It’s because of your presence and the curses you are dealt with that had caused him to be mad, and so once again it is because of _you_ that someone you love and care for suffers at your expense. In other words, you had caused so much misfortune on him. And even though you had promised him that you would destroy the person who’s responsible for the peoples’ deaths and destructions of the land, no matter what, you didn’t have the heart to kill him and fulfill his wish. Murder’s the last thing you can do to him, so you still will do everything in your power to avoid it; even after all the deaths of the innocent Celesians that still taints your hands to these days in that bloody struggle that started because of Ashura-ou’s orders and in the end, because of him. The last thing you want is to be a murderer _again_ , be that person who is purely responsible for ending a life even if that someone is threatening yours. Besides, you already have so many lives destroyed due to your existence and decisions, such as the people of Valeria and the people of Celes. 

And you will never forget you are the reason your brother is dead.

So it’s true. War _does_ bring nothing but pain and regret, and so far you had been able to avoid fighting ever since then.

Until now.

How cruel and ironic it is that you are now one of the two strongest warriors in the midst of another never-ending war that has lasted generations after generations in the name of the king of the land called Yama.

* * *

It was a predicament that you would have eventually landed in, considering the nature of traveling between worlds and dimension, and the witch had forewarned all of you about encountering dangerous conditions like this.

But you did not expect it to occur in a situation where it was only you and Kurogane left on your own means to survive until you reunite with Syaoran, Sakura, and Mokona. Perhaps worse of all, the timing had to be ill and happened in a place where you could neither communicate with the proud ninja or the people of Yama, which left you with very few options. To join the military of Yasha-ou meant you and the other man were not traitors, but it also meant you had to fully and willingly show that you’re capable of fighting and killing the enemies of the opposing clan. To not join would only spell out that you _were_ not allies. And so if it meant you had to fight and get involved in a bloody war to save your skin so you can continue on your mission to resurrect your brother and atone for your sins, you silently went with it, even though every part of you wished otherwise.

Kurogane, on the other hand, had readily accepted to be enlisted in Yasha-ou’s army. He was willing to join for more than pragmatic reasons; he was eager, and you could easily tell in his eyes and his smirk that this was something a strong warrior like him had been waiting forever since you and he were stuck together in this journey. Nothing could satiate his appetite like a complicated and long, waging war. It was another aspect that you and he had no commonalities in. He would always anticipate for a good fight, a good challenge and would _never_ run away from such opportunities while you would. Run away that was, because that was what you had been doing lately, and now that you couldn’t speak nor not participate in the war you had nowhere else to go. All you could do was literally keep mum and carry about just like how you would always be discreet and conceal your true fears and intentions. 

So on the first day you and Kurogane were commanded to begin training it dawned on you as well as your traveling companion that you would have to be adept with a weapon, whatever that would be. Magic was clearly out of the question since there were no magicians in the army, which you had no qualms about. However, it still meant you had to work with something else, an agent and tool that served to maim and kill on your behalf. Still, regardless of the idea that the weapon does the killing and not you with your magic or, heavens forbid, your own hands, the notion that you’re tasked to rob more lives was unsettling. 

At first, Kurogane tried to get you to use a sword by offering practices using wooden training ones, but after a few hours of poor attempts and lots of cursing and yelling from the other, the plan was abandoned. After all, you had purposefully tried to make it appear that you had no intention of honing even the basics of the weapon, unlike the serious and determined Syaoran. At the same time, you were relieved that sword fighting was something you would never be able to adapt in time before you and Kurogane were deployed for your first battle. At least that was something honest. But still, the others, especially the ninja, would not let you get away so easily. 

After the taciturn warrior cooled down from his frustration at that waste of a training session, he spoke in his native language you could not understand at all while using hand motions at the same time. He kept using his thumb and index finger to grip onto an imaginary object and flick his hand forward, muttering away. Kurogane continued going on his serious charade before he seemed pleased and started dragging you over to the armory. There he enquired the man in charge to fetch something, and it turned out to be a longbow along with some spare arrows to practice with. Putting two and two together, you realized that Kurogane was mimicking the times you expertly used those darts to deal with the oni in Outo, and so he had selected bow and arrow for you to try out. You had to hand it to him – he was actually thoughtful. But it wasn’t simple and convincing. It never would be. He would never, ever understand that oni were just oni and that killing them was different from killing _humans_.

With that said and done, Kurogane gruffly handed you the weapon and you took it with a smile: bemusement on the outside but sorrow on the inside.

Now that you were presented a new weapon to try out with, the two of you stepped out of the armory tent and retreated to the archery field where other archers were polishing up on their finesse. You tried to let the ninja know that you would be fine on your own to test out the bow and arrows by smiling and patting him on the arm, in which he immediately scowled and shoved your hand away. But still he frowned and shook his head, indicating that he would stay to monitor your progress. And you couldn’t help but laugh nervously at why he would insist on doing that. You weren’t comfortable with him pushing you around to make yourself useful, lest he would gripe about you being a bloody idiot. But at the same time, deep down you knew Kurogane was just trying to make sure you would have a purpose in Yasha-ou’s army so that you wouldn’t be as suspicious and, therefore, he was watching your back just as much. 

As soon as you stepped in front of a practice target range, the other man immediately took back the longbow and examined it. He then fetched an arrow from the quiver and carefully nocked it into a position. You simply watched his demonstration as he pointed the tip of the arrow at the target. Although this wasn’t the same as observing how he would handle a sword, which was clearly his forte, you couldn’t help but notice the sharpness in his eyes still as he finally released the arrow. Both sets of eyes followed the arrow as it flung towards the practice target where it landed within two rings closest to the center. Kurogane scoffed at his missed aim, but nevertheless he shoved the longbow back in your hands to let you give it a go.

The polished and refined wood felt heavy, yet light and natural in the palm of your hands. For a moment, you didn’t clench them firmly around the longbow, but then you tug a smile at the corner of the mouth. Sure, your companion would probably not fall for your deceit, but at the very least, you wanted to _try_ to pretend you’re willing to go through all of this effort for _his_ sake; yours not so much. Nothing in Kurogane’s eyes or expressions changed as he finally let go of the weapon and stepped back to watch your progress, and you were a bit surprised that he wasn’t going to literally guide you through using it. There wasn’t much you could do except for trying to repeat what he had just shown you. So you let things went on a normal pace and proceeded to fit an arrow into the bow, adjusting it while pulling back the string. The center of the target was the center of your focus as you aligned the tip of the arrow with it. But your eyes briefly flickered to the left just as you release the arrow, and so it landed erroneously far from the center. 

Kurogane crossed his arms and muttered under his breath, yet he didn’t berate you at all. Instead, he motioned for you to continue, which you responded back with a pout in a gesture of telling him that you weren’t that idiotic as he always presumed you to be. He rolled his eyes and shouted at you, most likely saying to just continue and stop with the silliness. Alas, the charades would have to end for now, you thought, as you resumed with your archery practice.

The practice lasted for another hour or so until even the ninja had said that it was enough for the day. Progress was going at a minimum pace, but at the very least, the arrows you released had become more concentrated in a particular area rather than being fired at random parts of the entire practice target. Yet even so, the tone and mannerism in Kurogane’s voice and body suggested that he wasn’t as strict and patronizing, therefore he expected and even understood that it would take some time before you master using the longbow with effortless precision. Besides, the first battle you and he would be employed in wouldn’t be until a few more nights anyways.

The routine was the same for the next few days. As soon as the sun rose in the horizon you and the other soldiers would wake up to a light, yet hearty morning meal, followed by a light rest before starting with group warm ups leading up to the daily grinds of practices.

Many arrows were used and reused as you continued practicing with the longbow. Beads of sweat perspired past your temples under the hot sun, and yet you kept finding yourself being disciplined. Your fingers would occasionally bleed from splinters in the arrows’ shafts, yet somehow you ignored the pain, maybe even let it continue. Soon your efforts and improvement became prominent and you found that more and more soldiers on breaks would come watch you along with Kurogane.

On the seventh day of grueling training under the sun, you made your first dead-center shot. There were scant hurrahs coming from several men, but still practice was not over. Nocking another arrow, which now became very familiar and at ease, you fired it and it landed squarely next to the other one. Two soon became three and three became four and so on until no more arrows could fit on the tiny center. With nothing left to accomplish, you lowered the longbow and wiped sweat off of your forehead. This wasn’t exactly something to be proud of, even though others were exclaiming and remarking about your superb archery skills. You didn’t even dare look over to see Kurogane, because even though he wasn’t exactly reacting like many of the others, you knew he was just as impressed as the others on your successful streaks. You wanted to smile, maybe even laugh, at all of this. Maybe it was for the better that no one, not even the man who was so good at reading you, would ever know.

Know that you were considered one of the best archers in the Celesian army – that was.

When you were still hesitant to use your magic for the good (or what you _thought_ was good), for the people of Celes because of the Valerian superstition tied to it, your king was sympathetic. He therefore suggested you to try out something that didn’t deal with magic at all, and that happened to be archery. It wasn’t like magic where you picked it up naturally from the start, but it was something you worked on over the years when you were still new to Celes before you mastered it. In the end, archery was your second best way of fighting, and your talent never left you, even though you abandoned it when you finally started going back to using offensive magic. So why did this other method of fighting had to come back painfully to you now?

You only wanted to fool the others that you were a novice when it came to archery. And so you ensured that you would aim so poorly at first. But since you knew it was expected you would get better, you couldn’t get away by slacking off forever. So you advanced to the point it looked like you were improving when there was no improvement needed to be done in the first place. Now that many eyes, including a general, witnessed your prowess, there was no going back. The charades must end there. There was no more fooling them.

And that included even no longer fooling yourself, even hoping, that you were unnatural with this weapon.

* * *

Tonight is another battle. Perhaps it’s the hundredth one, but you do not know since you have lost track of it. Or worse, perhaps you have grown so accustomed to war that you do not even try to count anymore.

But you still keep count of the days, the long and relentless ones.

It has been approximately four months – one hundred twenty and so days– since you and Kurogane have been stranded in the land of Yama. Four months of being a soldier, a master archer. Four months of being continuously deployed to the barren battlefield high above the earth in the night sky that hovers by the beautiful, yet haunting full moon. Four months of pushing yourself against your own principles to be active in this endless war. Ever since the others had seen how well you are with the longbow, you and the other man have both proven just how strong you are, therefore impressing the king and causing you to advance through the ranks rapidly. Together, the two of you are now the strongest warriors in Yasha-ou’s army.

The night is still young yet the battlefield is already reeking with the stench of blood and fallen bodies. Already several of your arrows have been disposed of from your quiver into the men of the Ashura clan, yet none have become lethally fatal. Yet time can only tell if tonight, or some other time, that your attack will be fatalistic as soon as you let go of an arrow from your hand. But even so, you hope it will stay this way, because so far you have been able to remain guiltless of murder in your own hands. At the very least, it is all you can ask for, a compromise if you will for being the strongest archer (and Kurogane the strongest swordsman) at the moment on this side of the battlefield for the sake of surviving to fulfill your wishes. 

More soldiers from the other side are advancing towards Yasha-ou, but you have been well trained for this. Hitching another arrow and drawing it in your bow, you effortlessly fire some more at them, striking shoulders in some and legs in others. The motions are continuous, almost as if your mind and body are one with the weapon. But you refuse to let it become that way, refuse for you to become a mindless, murderous machine. If anything, _Kurogane_ fits that. He’s not afraid to fight at all. It runs in his blood and to him he is merely a predator among a field of weak preys. This is nothing new to him and something he eagerly anticipates. One strike from his sword follows with another and never before have you seen him so deadly in the entire journey. Such ruthlessness runs to the contrary of your perfectly maintained control of the extent of the damage you can possibly inflict.

And yet, one thing continues to puzzle you about the strong ninja. 

This is a war, and a war in reality meant going straight for the kill as soon as you can. So why then, would Kurogane always attack the enemies with full brunt yet never completely kill them? Why would he, a warrior who had told you that he would _never_ hesitate to kill those who threatens his life – not to mention the lives he sworn to protect – not deliver the final blow ever since you two started fighting here? It can’t be because he values his enemies’ lives over his and his allies. To do so would be wholly uncharacteristic of him. To do so would give you and him something to have common in, when in reality you prefer it not to be that way. If anything, if he refuses to kill much as you do, then it leaves you vulnerable with the obligation to do so.

The clashes of steel bring you back to full alert. This is no time to let your guards down. You cannot let anyone catch you momentarily distracted from the stakes in present time, let alone the fact that you truly have no desire to be here. You cast your eyes at the moon and observe how far high in the sky it is. It’s still far from its highest point before time is out and you and the others are taken back to Yama. The ground was already bloody from the beginning of the evening. But now, as steels meet blades fiercely and a siege of arrows whip from all ends, the battle gets uglier.

Observing the number of bodies left lying on the battlefield, it seems that both clans have sustained nearly an equal number of losses in men. It pushes the struggle on an edge and everyone of course knows it, even though it is evident that a true victor to emerge is still unlikely. Along with everyone else, you keep your weapon and your diminishing supply of arrows at the ready. If anything you must use them wisely, and of course the more you have in stock, the more assured you know nothing can go out of hand. Soon enough, you keep reminding yourself, the moon will reach its peak and send you back. Heavens permit that it stays this way until you and Kurogane can finally get out of all of this tangled mess and resume the journey with the others. 

It really is a wonder how good of an act you have been putting all this time, because in honesty you are now letting your clever acts of deceits get to the best of you. Perhaps it is all for the better, you wonder, as you act quickly once again and fire another arrow. The thought is very tantalizing as an escape from everything you have been hiding for these past few months and all those past battles. It is _exactly_ what you need right now, you convince yourself.

_Even if it is dangerous? For you?_

_Too late_ , you mentally argue, _there is no going back_.

Suddenly, the entire mood of the scene change. The stench of the blood, the bodies on the ground no longer bothers you. Rather, you block it out of your sight, out of your senses. It isn’t a matter that the more people you hurt, the more you feel satisfied. It’s a matter of feeling less vulnerable to your enemies, to your fellow allies. Even to Kurogane and yourself. _This_ is how it is supposed to be. This is what you can control – how you feel, how you act, how you adapt to the current situation. You don’t know these people. Hell, the only one you are familiar with is the ninja, so it’s okay – it’s all goddamn perfectly okay and under control. Nothing can go wrong here, you insist, you so want to be convinced. Nothing can go wrong so long as you find the other three because that is all you need and want to do to keep your promises.

One by one you snatch an arrow and let them go. Bit by bit you feel the wood rubbing raw against your fingers. Little by little you feel your own blood running down. But this is nothing. That pain is nothing and so you let it continue. This won’t kill you at all. Nothing and nobody _can_ kill you because you won’t. Not until you do the complete opposite of murder and bring Fai back to life. All you are doing now can really be nothing heinous, so you just fire those projectiles away and let your fingers and palm continue to bleed for a little. Time moves faster. The moon is getting closer to its zenith. You have this under your control. You surely have this under control.

Right?

All of a sudden, you hear so many yells going on at once. Somebody is proving to be quite a match. But that’s alright, because Kurogane should be able to take care of that, and you do not have to deal with this opponent, right? So this should not be a big deal at all, and you keep checking back at the moon. This too shall pass, and soon the battle, for now, should be over. Just keep these facades going and you should be fine.

But no, you keep hearing cries from your end, and they will not go away. And then you realize they are all coming at you. Somebody is literally shoving an arrow in your hand _now_ with loads of swearing and that causes you to look at who it would be. But instead of doing that, you instinctively look forward and see that someone has been deceitfully going to attack you at your moment of vulnerability. You don’t even have to think. Your hand automatically positions the arrow and you point it at that other man.

You release.

Then all of a sudden you are cruelly jerked back to reality. And now to your horror, you can only witness as the arrow flies before it pierces him. Right in his heart. Dead center. 

No, no, _no_!

Never before have had you heard such a deadly and cold bloodcurdling scream. And you swear it could be coming from you, too. 

The loud wail reverberates once across the battlefield, yet to you it echoes on infinitely, ringing in your ears and vibrating against your heavy chest. It roars in your head, pounds in your ears, and blood leaves your cheeks in brutal shock; numbness and fear seeps in its place instead. Not wanting to see the man you had just slain slump to the ground in front of you, eyes rolled back and mouth left hanging open, you quickly tend to your quiver and bow. _It’s okay_ is what you want to tell yourself, or at least coolly let others think you feel that way. But it’s not okay, not okay to have slain that man, not okay to have lost control like that, not okay to release the arrow _just like that_ , not okay to let yourself forget about this and not okay to ever, _ever_ forgive yourself.

Your fingers tremble along the leftover arrows and they inch further and further down the quiver so no one can see you so unforgivably unsettled, heart pounding so hard that you can’t even see or hear or _feel_ anything but _hurt_ and _betrayal_. All you can show is collective calm, smiling lightly as if nothing is really upsetting you, because taking an enemy’s life is just a part of being a warrior on a bloody battlefield. You just want to close your eyes and wish that you are away and anywhere but here, let the pain building in your chest, suffocating your lungs, and pouring into tears leak out of heavy eyelids, but you can’t because that will betray you and you can’t betray yourself – not yet.

Something heavy lands on your shoulder and you force yourself to see what it is, revealing a tan hand, fingers lightly coated in blood. Kurogane’s probably affirming you, praising you for your quick reflex, but you can’t look him in the eyes. He doesn’t know, but you can’t tell if he knows or not because lately he’s been focusing _too much_ on you, reading you and it’s alarming. So you just smile, not too small or too big but it’s still a smile.  
Finally the moon reaches its zenith high in the sky and the familiar magic whisks everyone away from the ruins of the battlefield. The cold stone of Yasha-ou's castle greets his men, and immediately soldiers and infirmaries rush in and out to tend to the wounded. A faint sigh escapes from your lips, released from your overwhelmed and fatigued body, but you can't lean back against solid stone. Not yet, not now, wait, wait, _wait_ until you get back into your headquarters that the king had granted you and Kurogane as rewards for being the two strongest warriors among his ranks.

Someone throws a cloth at you and you use it to wipe off blood from your cheeks, your chest plate armor and everywhere. The material runs over your fingers coated in the dark red liquid, brazen from whipping out so many arrows that night and it cleans the blood off well - yet you can still feel it, feel the stains lingering on them from all the past murders under your conscience. No matter how many times they are wiped and cared for, they are still there, building and building ever since you were sentenced to that valley a long time ago. You were never in the mood to talk due to the language barriers, but especially tonight nothing should ever escape from your mouth for fear of losing control in front of everyone. 

Silence.

And yet nothing is ever truly silent. The sounds of the battle and the excruciating scream of the man whose life you'd taken still haunts you when you quietly walk back to your and Kurogane's private quarter. All those times of talking endlessly can't spare you from the wretchedness that silence brings to you, and even the silence permeating from the ninja next to you lends to the loneliness. What good would it do to have an exchange with the other man when there were barriers to communication? Besides, you know the tones and inflections in your voice will betray yourself to him anyways - and if there _were_ no translation issues to begin with, there's nothing much that can be spoken in the first place. 

When at last the two of you arrive outside of the quarter, Kurogane speaks in his native tongue, making gestures with his hands and arms as always. Before the warrior would exaggerate with his non-verbal cues out of sheer frustration that you couldn't make anything out of his words, but four months later to this night, you know him better anyways and he knows that. He jabs his fingers down the corridor. _I'm going that way._ Kurogane raises his hand and draws a square in the air. _To meet with the king._ He then shoves you on the back towards the flap covering the door to the quarter. _Stay there, and don't go anywhere, idiot._

Privacy. Kurogane's unintentionally giving you privacy just by choosing to give Yasha-ou a visit and you can't help but silently thank him for giving you that. You wave a hand nonchalantly, nodding your head and smile to let him know that you perfectly understand his plans. Before he can scrutinize you any further, you stumble into the room and shut the door and plant an ear on it just to make sure that Kurogane is still not standing outside. He's not, and with all coasts clear you slump along the door, breathing loud and hard. 

Somehow, you push yourself to step away from the door and retreat closer to your own bed, where you start removing your armors and leave them lying on the floor. Change of clothes wait for you, but you can't bring yourself to change out of your warrior attire and settle down to a much, much needed sleep. There's no way you can sleep at this rate, and not even burying your face headfirst into the bed will spare you from conjuring the horrid images of corpses in your nightmares. And now, the thought of that man with an arrow affixed where his once beating heart was, mouth hanged open with blood and blank eyes rolled back will not, cannot leave you. Just the frightening thought snags your breath away and all of a sudden you lurch forward, clasping your stomach that's hurting. 

Something's choking you, tightening your throat and it won't let those thoughts and images go away. You can't see and you can't hear but you can feel, _feel_ the hurt and betrayal and heavens, oh _heavens_ , tears are welling up and now, now you're crying.

It does not matter that you had to fire the arrow to protect yourself from that man. A murder is a murder. You had killed him and stole his life, adding to the list of numerous people whose lives you had robbed since the day you were born as one of an unlucky twin and princeling. A breath, a heartbeat and a thriving, loving soul that is taken away from the earth can never be reclaimed. You know this, know this even though you have bargained with the warlock to do as he wish and follow his bidding so that you can do the nigh impossible and bring Fai back to life. You know that this contract entails more deaths and betrayals under your conscience. 

But that still doesn’t mean you wanted to, and ever since you and Kurogane faced that powerful witch under the pouring acid rain you have been able to avoid fighting confrontations with other humans – until now, until this world and its endless war. And you were close, _so close_ , from having another night of no killings on your end tonight. So close just before the moon had reached its zenith and take you and the others away. But no, mere moments before the majestic lunar body hit its crucial moment that man from the land of Shura had to creep up to you and your body had to automatically react and aim an arrow dead straight at that vital organ that gives and sustains life.

It’s irrevocably silent, but the mimicking sounds of heart beats reverberate in your ears. Echoes of wails fire off as well, triggering memories of past wars and battlefields in Celes, memories of bodies falling down in the snow in your hands and the hands of other Celesian warriors, and the bloody hands of your king. You shut your eyes and clench your hands over your ears, willing, wishing them all to go away, but the horrible sight of blood burns underneath your eyelids. Blood on arrow tips and blades on the barren enclave. Blood in the snow and in the hands of your king. Blood dried on the cold stones where you once scaled endless times in vain of freeing your brother. Blood from the Valerian king who plunged a sword through him right in front of your eyes. Blood from your twin, your brother, _your everything_.

The flashbacks pit waves of nausea that sends you buckling on your knees, causing you to collapse on the bare floor. Leaning against the wall you pull your legs to your chest and rock back and forth, back and forth as tears pour out and you struggle to breathe through this and through all the pain. That heavy feeling in your chest is swarming through your throat and even though you cannot afford to let out loud wails lest you want other men or, heavens forbid, Kurogane to overhear you, you need to let it out. Your mouth opens, parched, already hoarse from the shaking motions reverberating down your throat and chest. And yet nothing else but those painful croaks are coming out, no words, no loud moans can come forth. All those cries, all those screams have been ripped out of you perhaps ever since Fai had fallen and died and yet you still are screaming, still crying your heart out into the silence of the night.

Just for once, these feelings, these fears and everything you had carefully put away and conceal can come out – but at the expense of the weight and the gruesome burdens and pain every fiber of your body is going through. The tears will not stop, can’t stop – will not subside, fighting, pushing to be released against your will, and in your surrendering to them they trail down your cheeks and coalesce into drops that drip onto your clenched hands that shake and tremble on your knees. Your head collapses and you feel rather helpless and vulnerable, incapable of controlling anything save for your barest grips to reality, or whatever left of reality is left that you can cope with.

Sometimes crying shows a sign of strength was what you once said to Kurogane, of all people, back in that first world when Syaoran was outside in the pouring rain, in tears and at a loss. Yet how can that be the case for you, when you’re struggling as is enough to just _stop_ , stop crying, stop breathing so hard, stop feeling all of this and just stop feeling that you have to run away from everything. But you have to be strong so you can believe and _hope_ that you will see the children and Mokona soon in order to resume fulfilling your wish. 

The door opens.

You freeze and hold your choked breath. Kurogane is standing right there and hasn’t walked in yet but it’s already too late. There’s nothing you could do, nothing you could say in your own tongue that would reassure the taciturn warrior despite the language barrier. He locks his eyes on yours, and in sudden paralysis you can’t break way, because even if you did the cold, harsh truth has been revealed. Mute, body language can only do so much for you. For an agonizing moment you both stay there, frozen, and even in the dimness of the room, there’s something different in Kurogane’s eyes but you dare not interpret what is going on in the warrior’s mind. The room is eerily silent again, and you would do anything to make it go away.

Kurogane breaks it.

He starts speaking in his native language. It’s fast and it’s harsh and you’re not sure what he’s saying but by the sounds and his inflections the warrior comes across as irritated. He comes closer, the sound of heavy footstep breaking the cold floor, and for the first time you don’t know what to do in defense in order to not betray your true feelings. You can’t wipe away your tears on your sleeves fast enough; he already sees you drenched in them. With painful efforts you slowly exhale, feeling the tightness in your chest expand until you manage to swallow to halt yourself from shedding more salty tears. By then Kurogane looms over you, staring with resolute dark eyes. All of a sudden you feel like a helpless child again, under the consternation of your uncle who never showed mercy to you and Fai, _smiling_ madly whenever you and your twin brother were suffering and crying, never comforting you because _you didn’t deserve it._

You break eye contact at last and fleetingly stare at the candlelight, and in the shadows on the floor you see Kurogane’s hand coming towards you. He’s going to close that hand into a fist, you realize in abject horror, and punch you for your sorry mess of a state. You’ve seen him like that before, always with Syaoran, always telling the teenager to keep his chin up and never be dragged down by his pain. But you’re not Syaoran who sometimes need uplifting support. Kurogane treats you differently, outright stating you’re the person he hates the most a world or two ago, and to be honest you do not blame him at the slightest. Heartbeat pounding erratically, you close your eyes, waiting for the punch to come, waiting for it to be over before you could do something to shake him off – whine to him, smile, push him away, _anything_ to try to make him leave you alone so you can try to sleep. Seconds pass, but nothing hard hits you. 

Instead, he places his hand on your shoulder, stripped from its steel pauldron, and squeezes it. 

It stirs something in you, and in utter shock your eyes fling wide open, letting out a gasp. You start quivering again, wordlessly mouthing something, fighting that awful feeling in your stomach from overwhelming you again. For a brief moment you remember on the battlefield how he had clapped his hand on your armored shoulder in a similar fashion after you killed that soldier. You thought he was appraising you for your quick reaction in the name of self-defense, but you were wrong, oh how you were wrong. He wasn’t being proud of you in that awful, awful moment ago. No, Kurogane then was offering his comfort discreetly as he could since you were all still on the battlefield and couldn’t show such consoling. But now, in the privacy of the quarters reserved for the two strongest warriors for the king, he could.

All your life nobody wanted to be near you, didn’t want to touch you at the slightest, treating you and Fai as vermin that should be left to rot away, and rot away you two did at the valley. Your mother never comforted you when you cried, not even when you were just a baby wailing in your crib because she was too distraught at bringing the most accursed children out into the world. Nobody sought to touch you, comfort you, because when you suffered it was just a retribution for the harms your living presence brought to the Valerian citizens. The first touch of love and comfort came from your twin, your brother, _your everything_ , and you and he were all that you had. But then he was taken away from you, ripped from your arms for eternity when he fell from the tower. Ashura was the next person who you never hesitated to seek comfort from, but even now he isn’t within reach, sleeping still in the pool of water right next to your brother. Comfort always came with a heavy price, and for the first time since you left Celes, you want it. 

Kurogane’s eyes lock on yours again, and in the moment of fully understanding just what on earth is going on and feeling everything threatening to come out, you are finally, _finally_ able to let out a loud wail as he wraps his other arm around you and pulls you towards him.

The crying doesn’t stop. He holds on to you and doesn’t say anything. Not even a sigh or a grunt comes from him. It goes on like this for a while, as if it’s been long overdue, or maybe it _is_. Kurogane isn’t your parent, not even remotely a parental figure, but he’s all that you have so you just stay there, sobbing below his neck, hands locked there and fingernails scraping on padded clothing. You can’t see anything past your tears – only feel your body shake against the warriors, feel the strange but soothing warmth from his arms. He murmurs, and this time it’s gentler, calmer than when he first entered the room, words you cannot fully comprehend, but all the same you know it to be soothing words, like a parent comforting a child. It’s surreal, but you know he really does mean it.

You gasp for air, throat still tight as it is, but instead of feeling overwhelmed and completely helpless in the company of Kurogane, you let the pain ride out with your breath, your salty tears, and the rage and anguish that claw through the warrior’s chest. For the first time in four months you feel safe letting your walls down. Even though your grief shows, Kurogane doesn’t know what you have been thinking about, what atrocities have been done on your bloodstained hands in the past, and that’s all that matters because there is no way you could ever have him or the children find out. You’ve betrayed many others before, and yet here at this very moment, Kurogane had willingly open himself up to protect you, hold you, _comfort_ you. 

And for that very reason, it hurts so much.

Fresh tears well up. Your throat tightens and you choke, yet you let them fall in silence, shutting your heavy and weary eyelids. But then you feel rough fingers grasp your chin, tilting your face. You can barely make sense of what’s in front of you in the dark room, vision muddied from tears, but you can still see the outlines of Kurogane’s eyes, pitch black, still attentive. He slides his hand past your jaw, over your cheek, sending your nerves on fire and leaving you to catch your breath. His fingers rest just beneath your right eye, tracing it; thumb wiping away your tears in slow, gentle strokes. You can hear him breathing and feel the warmth of it tickling your skin. He talks again, softer, murmuring in his mother tongue that soothes instead of intimidates. It’s calming, like a lullaby, and you drink in those sweet, sweet words of his. A spell has been cast, leaving you to drown in it as if you never wish to resurface. 

In a stupor, Kurogane edges closer, his breath brushing against your eyelashes. It’s strange. Everything about him feels so warm, and you never want that to leave you that you don’t even attempt to push him away. His chin brushes against your nose, and for a moment your breath is hitched, heart stopping for a moment, until he inclines and presses his lips on your eyelid gently.

Heat pools in your cheeks as he suddenly pulls away, alarmed.

For that initial moment, you had left your guard completely down, vulnerable to his stunning act of intimacy. But it wasn’t just you, and you know Kurogane is reeling over what he had done just as much as you are. Both of your guards had been left down. Your heartbeat quickens, and does so even more when you dare to initiate eye contact again. He’s still close to you, much too close, his nose barely touching yours. It’s still hard to see in this darkness, but you can feel the heat radiating from his face, and surely just as any other time you have teased and prodded him, he’s positively blushing. But this time, it’s on his end and not yours, and well that, you realize, gulping as quietly as you can, makes all the difference.

You shouldn’t let yourself stay like that, locked in a fierce gaze with him, increasing your vulnerability when you thought you couldn’t have any more after crying openly into his arms. But for some reason, neither of you can let go of the eye exchange, seeing into the same set of jet black irises. You can’t put your finger to that immense feeling surging in your chest, threatening to overtake your senses. It’s not love, not the type of love that you feel you can never, ever have, let alone deserve. But it’s something else extraordinary, like a deep connection. And you know why so. Ever since the beginning of the journey, since you’d left Ashura-ou in his deep sleep and fled your home, you were an outsider, always keeping a careful toe on not crossing the line with the children, lest of all Kurogane. He’s your enemy, the pawn of the witch, the one person whom you posed the most danger to out of them all. 

And yet…it’s different this time. For four slow, cruel months, no signs of the others’ presence have shown up. The feeling of being watched and controlled by the shadowy man whom you have agreed to do his bidding is miraculously gone. And as much as you fear being caught – your lies and intentions revealed, betrayed to all – and having to bring more harm than good ( _if_ you can even bring good), you don’t feel as cautious. No matter how it ends up, for now, all you have is Kurogane. No Ashura-ou or that man watchful eyes to be alert for. No Syaoran or Sakura or Mokona to attend to. Just Kurogane. And on the same token, you are all that he has, to be with, to yell and chase after you without getting into trouble, to watch over you and even comfort you. He’s all that you have and you’re all that he has, and because of that you let yourself be fully open to him, honest and vulnerable. In of itself, you let yourself be cared for, truly be comforted with less fear and guilt. 

And for that reason, just for that reason, you realize, as your heart beats even harder as Kurogane presses his nose against yours, you finally let yourself go as you close your eyes and feel the burning, aching, and much needed warmth of his lips on yours.

One moment they’re there, soft and pliant, sweeping over each and every corner slowly and incessantly, lingering ever so lightly. The next they’re gone. It’s cold without their warmth, _Kurogane’s warmth_ , and your body shivers in protest, skin covered in goosebumps despite that you’re still fully dressed in your long sleeved attire. 

His kisses on a whole were light and brief, and yet they end up leaving you to catch your breath, heart still beating erratically from the unexpected thrill of Kurogane brushing his lips against yours. The lingering ghosts of them send a shiver down your spine, heat slowly building in your belly. Those gentle kisses weren’t enough, you realized, and the thought of going further with the warrior is so tempting that you could feel your heart beat pulsating all the way up in your throat. In spite of the thundering sound from all of the needing and _wanting_ you swear you can hear the loud pulses coming from Kurogane as well. And that startles you.

Were this all to happen in any other world, any other circumstance, you would have evaded his proposition in the first place – smile out of it; laugh even – anything to set a firm distance from him. For the past four months or so he would still harangue you at any opportunity, be it when you were training or fighting. The language barrier had made matters worse where Kurogane would break into his short tempered fits whenever you were not able to understand him. Your dynamics were still the same without the children and the bun’s presence.

But this is here, this is _now_ , and with the slightest of inclination that the stoic, gruff, and temperamental warrior is gentle and kind, warm and attentive, and _wants_ to comfort you with _kissing_ , and maybe more – well, you’re at quite a loss. 

Finally willing yourself to face him, you lift your eyes, and sure enough it isn’t dullness in those eyes that greets you. Despite their pure shades of black, as dark as the night sky and barely discernible, there’s something about them that’s striking. They’re warm, not like the sun rays being harsh on your skin, but warm like that of the campfires grating soothingly on chilly nights. There’s even tenderness, in lieu of the usual anger or cautionary glances his customary flaming red eyes give. Like coals warming up before bursting into flames, they are waiting, waiting for that spark to ignite. 

He wants you.

And he’s waiting.

Your pulse goes louder as you slowly rake your fingers along his arm, over his shoulder and onto his neck just barely beneath his chin where you can feel his heartbeat thundering as well, eyes never letting go of his. _Take me_ , you practically beg in silence, _hold me, kiss me, comfort me, make me forget everything, love me_.

Just as your hand wraps around his jaw, he grabs your wrist with one hand, curls the other at the nape of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair, and hauls you into a kiss.

A much, much deeper kiss.

At first you weren’t sure what to expect from him. He could have kissed you roughly, pinned you against the wall, forcing the air out of you. It’s what you’d imagine all those nights you and he gathered round the campfire with the other soldiers, having drinks and sharing tales, and in your silent, mute reveries you wondered what it would be like to be kissed by the aggressive warrior and taste the alcohol on his breath and lips. But it’s nothing like that tonight. He kisses with fond and affectionate passion, drawing back only to pull you in deeper, and you drink him in, warm breath and all. His fist tightens around the back of your head, tipping it back for your throat to be exposed where he begins trailing downward with kisses. Heat blazes with his movement and seeps into your chest, slowly building into a pool below your abdomen. A gasp of startle and contentment emits from your throat. 

It turns out that’s what Kurogane is waiting for, for soon enough strong limbs are hooked around your waist and lift you, all the while taking your mouth in his again in quick succession. His move is unexpected, and in the darkness and dazed ecstasy you nearly slip. You wrap your arms around his neck for last minute support as he carries you over to his bed, legs hooked around him, where he parts for a moment and drops you gently, contradicting all those other times he handled you quite carelessly out of sternness and disapproval. He joins you on the bed as you catch your breath, head still dizzy from him passionately lifting you off from the ground and kissing you wordlessly.

He goes down on all four, hands besides your shoulders, but instead of resuming into hot and heavy kissing to drive away the pains and burdens of the night he simply stays put. You’re catching your breath and so is he. The thunderous noises have died down, but not fully, as if your heartbeats will not simply lie peaceful until that release occurs. Yet neither of you seem to be in a rush. 

This time you don’t shy away from looking at him. There’s nothing else you can hide from him at this moment, not after crying in his presence and him comforting you with warmth and much needed kisses. He still cannot understand the extent of the pains you bore tonight from the battlefield, and you never intend to let him know when the language barrier is no longer an obstacle. Some things, if not most, must remain as secrets from the perceptive warrior. But the freedom, a rather small taste of it, is there, and the feeling of hiding lingers far in the back of your mind. Kurogane may be able to read you so well without words, but for now all he can see are your inhibitions loosening bit by bit, the way you let your muscles relax and the surefire way that you can’t simply let go of looking back at him rather fondly. He doesn’t goad you to do more than you want, to express more than you can bear. Rather he stays there patiently, keeping a caring watch in earnest tenderness. You can’t help but wonder if this is a dream, and if so, you quietly wish that you wouldn’t wake up so soon.

The reverie breaks as he lifts a hand, the one with the scar running along his whole palm, light brown across tan skin, and smooth away strands of hair that cover your right eye. ( _And you wonder about the story behind that scar, why he clenches it sometimes, especially that one night in Edonis when he thought you and Syaoran were dead._ ) He tucks them behind your ear where he begins rubbing the back of it slowly, stirring a noise of content from you. His free hand clasp yours and you let him, fingers interlocked firmly and warmth and love flowing freely in between. It’s soothing, like a parent comforting a child, but it’s nothing like that dynamic. 

For months you’ve been travelling companions, brought together by fate, paired together frequently as worlds go by. In this place with the never-ending war, an unlikely bond has been forged, sometimes words on his end, rarely on yours. In many military cultures there is an unspoken oath between comrades that you fight together, rely on each other, never betray each other. Sometimes there may be another wordless understanding that your fellow soldiers will be your bedmates, literally brother in arms to ease away the disturbing troubles pressing on you. You’ve heard of it before in Celes, asked your king the concept as a youth – and even flushed bright red when he actually listened and succinctly explained to you the rationale of men sharing quarters in much more intimacy than what you only assumed. Over the years spent fighting in wars under your allegiance to Ashura-ou you’ve certainly had terrible images flooding you, bringing back gruesome and painful memories of Valeria. But in spite of that you’d never permit yourself to be comforted in that way by another soldier, placing high distrust on being cared for. Comfort did always come in a high, devastating price.

But Kurogane is different. _Everything about him is_. There’s something about him you feel that you can trust. It’s not a matter of him hurting your feelings or betraying you down the road. Rather, it’s more so that when the long spell of mute, non-verbal communication stops and you and Kurogane resume the feather-hunting journey with the three others, the warrior will not be the one that’s hurt. Pride and honor are laid thick among your steeled companion. Strength of all kinds runs deep in his heart and soul. In spite of all those times he pushed you to work hard on the training field, fight like a true and loyal soldier, he understands that you’re in pain and goes out of his ways and manners to comfort you. To be tended to in such warm, gentle, and patient manners tonight on his bed is truly an honor, one that you accept and even _welcome_ with your whole heart after all those times you turn down offers from past comrades.

There’s nothing you can say, nothing you can utter to express your everlasting gratitude. Something painful lodges in your throat and you quietly swallow to push it away. So instead you squeeze his hand back and watch as he registers your signal in those assuring obsidian eyes. The corners of his mouth twitch momentarily, barely turning into a small, kind smile, and the gesture in itself causes you to catch your breath. Just like the other times earlier tonight, your heartbeat quickens. But this time you wait in eager, yearning anticipation as you lie still with parted lips, which Kurogane gladly yields with more supple kisses.

It feels warm again, his breath and body and all. He’s not fully over you yet, still dangling an inch or two above you, but soon enough his hand leaves your ear and winds at your waistband, where he slips it underneath your shirt and trails coarse fingertips along your stomach. You nearly bite his lips in surprise from the surge of human heat roaming along your torso. You swear he’s _grinning_ amongst the multitude of deep kisses, and when stray fingers finally brush around your nipple followed by a quick rub you nearly lose it already. Fingers of yours claw their way through his unruly hair, barely grating against his scalp. In response his nose bumps against yours, halting the flow of rough, satiable kissing. He lets go and sits up. Before you could protest in any form or shape he tugs at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up roughly.

Now _there’s_ no argument against that.

You sit to meet him in order to fasten the undressing process, raising your arms along the way. Kurogane practically pulls away your shirt that you can feel the cold draft in the room hitting your exposed torso. He then starts to unfasten the clasps at the neckline of his shirt, revealing the expanse of his strong, broad neck bit by bit. You try to assist him as he tugs it over his head, grasping the thick fabric, but he’s too quick for even your own needs. Soon your eyes are drawn to his sculpted chest, and he notices it, grabbing your hand and guiding it towards there where you rake fingertips down muscles and all. He places a flat palm over yours, easing you on your back again with quick kisses while his other hand hooks at the hem of your pants. Just like the shirt he manages to slip it off without much of a fuss. Cold air greets your erect cock. You hiss as Kurogane removes the last of his clothing as well, and when he finally joins you again you make sure to express gratitude with a sure sounding moan of approval.

At last he presses his entire body against yours, skin against skin and even his toes curled around yours. His own warmth radiates and you can even feel his heartbeat, strong and steady and never as fitting as now. For now he lets you catch your breath as he sweeps away flyaway strands once again. Kurogane cups your cheekbone, leaning close towards you. But instead of bridging the distance he stops just short of a kiss, enough so you can feel his warm breath. It’s already enough to make you go crazy and yet drink in his sweet comfort. 

He then inches his face higher and kisses your forehead first and foremost.

The gesture’s unexpected, but at the same time it has been nothing short of him indulging you tonight. His light kiss leaves a warm, soft spot, smoothing away the straining knots on your forehead from all the stress wrought by worries and traumas. He doesn’t linger there anymore, for soon enough he’s navigating the corners of your face. His lips are on your temple, then around your earlobe, a quick movement to the other side and repeat, peppering all over your jawline. They’re not rough – brisk and light and so faint that they become ticklish. Kurogane catches you squirming and he pins you down tighter. It’s not rough and painful, far from it. One arm cradles behind your neck, his hand snaked on the very back of your head where it rests in your hair; the other cups your ear, rubbing it. A large tingling wave spurns in your stomach and travels southward, and in a flash of need and want you wrestle an arm over his neck where you control him your way, catching his mouth with greedy parting lips.

Kurogane doesn’t mind at all. He caves in and kisses you back, deeper, hungrier than before. You can hardly even let out strangles of pleasure and content, let alone breathe so easily with his tongue in your mouth. But it’s more than just an instant gratification. It’s what you want and _need_ , and as Kurogane holds you tighter and grinds his hips, brushing his erect length against yours and _heavens it feels so good_ , you don’t even know how much longer you can last.

He breaks away and then starts kissing along your neck. You roll your head to the side for his benefit and he takes advantage of it, hitting a sensitive spot along the way, causing you to buck your hips. He doesn’t even kiss lightly anymore as he did on your forehead and on your eyelid much, much earlier; his lips mull in a circular motion, nibbling and sucking with gusto. The warmth of Kurogane’s body, his lips and his breath are more than just enough for you to careen over the edge. More heat concentrates below your belly, away from your lust-filled head, and you want nothing more but for him to finish you off now. Soon enough he trails his lips and nose away, brushing them past your collarbones and down the middle of your chest. They become ticklish around your stomach, and as soon as Kurogane pauses momentarily to kiss your navel deeply, palm of his hand splayed along the rib and trails of heat pooling much, much further south, you finally cave in and start begging to be done. All it just takes for him now is to go just a bit further down, taking you in or priming your entrance. But none of that happens.

Instead, he stops, and then sits up. 

Even though you’re breaking sweat by now it still feels cold, and even empty, without Kurogane so close to you, skin meeting skin and breaths giving warmth. The rapid pulses are still there, beating loudly, vibrating in your chest and fingertips. Yet as reassuring as those signs of want and need are still there, you still feel scared. Scared of those thoughts returning. Scared of them holding you back from doing what you set out to do. But now that Kurogane unexpectedly stopped tending to you, even if it was just for a moment for him to breathe, you feel that gut instinct to be distant and seal off your emotions surfacing. The urge to pull back and repress the desire to be held and comforted calls out to you. Your head says to abandon this need, do something to tell Kurogane he doesn’t need to do anymore, _lie_ if you have to.

But your heart says so otherwise.

So when Kurogane holds your ankle, lifts it into the air, and presses his lips onto your foot, everything seems to stand still for a moment. Then, and only then, do you understand which side Kurogane is hoping to win.

It seems so spontaneous, so light mood at first, but it’s not. All those times Kurogane have paused from passionate, hot and heavy action to kiss you sweetly were not merely for the sake for the two of you to have space before he resumes. From the surprise soothing kiss on the eyelid to the one that eased the knots on your forehead, and now the one on your foot, the warrior’s slow and sweet gestures have served to mollify. There’s more than just lustful and indulgent love making. Kurogane could have performed the sexual deed hastily, with nothing more than just pinning you to the bed and keeping it all like that until he comes inside you, driving away your pains with instant, gratifying lustful needs – but he doesn’t. He still takes some time to indulge you as if he’s your lover, more than just comrades in the Yasha-ou’s troop. He really honestly does care.

And it’s enough to make you want to cry.

Sensing distraught, Kurogane kisses your foot for the second time. It tickles this time, however, and it catches you off again that you break into a smile instinctively. For the first time since you’ve met him and started the journey he’s grinning back – wide and genuine and nothing to do with fighting. It renders you so speechless that you swear your heart never beat as _hard_ as it does now, and suddenly it’s as if all of the tension dissipates once more.

He doesn’t stop there. Lifting your leg higher he starts kissing, on the underside, below the knee, sending nerves on fire. You gasp from the light touch of his tickling lips, and if it isn’t for his strong firm on you he could easily be kicked in the nose. Heat returns at a fast pace as he trails his mouth upwards, until he reaches your inner thighs and _that’s_ when you nearly lose it again. 

The kisses are no longer soft and feathery to the touch. Kurogane isn’t just kissing there – he pulls on highly sensitive skin with sucking motion, alternating between fast and slow tempo. And he keeps on going like that, nibbling on all the corners, barely touching the base of your hard member. His warm breaths and the tips of his hair aren’t helping either. You’re begging again ( _need this, need you, want you_ ), one fist gripping tighter onto his bed, the other weaving through his unruly hair, scraping his scalp harshly. He nips in pain, but he doesn’t give in, not quite yet, still kissing your thighs harder and faster. There’s barely coherency left in your brain, blood having been drained from it and coagulating south and you want him to stop teasing, want nothing more than to be done with, _nownownow_. 

He lets go and rolls you on your side, lying down behind you with both arms clasped around your torso. He breathes deeply into the back of your neck, sending tingling waves down your spin as he pulls you both up. You drown in his warmth that drapes over your back as Kurogane reins you into his lap, his legs spread wide and his erect member propped against your tailbone. His hand runs along your inner thighs one last time – and then he brushes the very tip, so light that you could barely feel it but it’s just enough to shudder and moan. He nips on your shoulder, the other hand dancing across your chest, rubbing your nipple, and then he finally takes all of your hard length into his hand and strokes.

You no longer hold back your cries of content. It doesn’t take much. He rubs from base to tip, flicking his fingers along the shaft every now and then, sending spark after spark from your head to the very tip of your toes. By now his free arm has wrapped fully across your chest, embracing you, pressing you against him, keeping you warm and safe, all while he’s kissing your shoulder and neckline and pulling vigorously. 

Hot, heavy breaths clinging to skin. Warm, tender arm holding your beating heart close to his. Burning hand running back and forth on foreskin. Burning the coals, burning bright red: red for warmth, red for passion, red for love and for everything that you aren’t. Red for his true eye color, burning red eyes that burn into your soul and still do even when they’re cold, coal black.

Your vision is burning, blurring away from the dim room, blurring into the beats of your heart pounding vociferously into your chest, of the repetitive motion of his hand stroking, of the sounds of skin meeting skin. It’s warm, much too warm, his warmth and your warmth and the warmth of his hand and the warmth beneath your belly. Sweat trickles down your temples and all over your body and you’re burning with need and _want_ but it’s okay because it feels so good and _amazing_ and you feel safe and warm and comforted and even _loved_. As soon as you turn your head you find your mouth captured in his and you’re completely engulfed. He’s kissing you and rubbing your nipple and stroking harder and faster and it’s burning so hard down there. You’re grinding in his lap and all the friction and heat is building and building that you can barely feel anything but that buildup waiting to be released. 

Heart beating faster than never before, hot and heavy breath drowning your throat and lungs, Kurogane’s body entangled all over you. His encompassing touch is enough to push you over the edge – and with a few more fond kisses, sweeps across your chest and a strong jerk you finally come into his hand, letting out a cry of ecstasy. 

He holds on to you as you slump from exhaustion, then lies you down, and it’s a welcoming relief. The burning starts to ebb away as you breathe deeply and your heart pulse lowers gradually. Bit by bit the corners of the room become as clear as it can get in the dark. You brush aside hair that clings to sweat-stained skin for a better look and see Kurogane watching over you. He’s breathing heavily as well, but he looks calm, at least for now. You’re not sure if it’s post-coital buzz or exhaustion from sex on top of battling earlier tonight, but for a moment, the way he looks so serene and at ease, you swear Kurogane of all people looks so angelic. On the surface he appears to be a brute warrior, one who doesn’t get concerned about others’ state or welfare in order to do whatever he needs to do for his own selfish benefit. 

But sometimes actions speak more than words. In spite of the taciturn man stating that he had no desire to help Syaoran on his quest to claim all of Sakura’s feathers, you saw him breaking his word when you haven’t even left the country of Hanshin yet. When the boy had went outside to seek refuge in the pouring rain, crying over the devastating pain that Sakura would never remember how dear they are to each other, Kurogane had sent out his Kudan for shelter and support along with you. You’d listen to him complain about having to become a fighting master for Syaoran, and yet he took his new role as the boy’s teacher seriously. In another world where Sakura and Mokona had taken the time to arrange flower wreathes for everyone, he’d accepted his in the usual gruff manner; but weeks later when you went around doing laundry duty, you’d noticed stiff, dry petals clinging to the warrior’s tattered cloak. No matter how many times you tried to invoke his angry, violent side, kindness was something you couldn’t seem to shake off from him – like that time you’d caught him glancing at you quickly in the bar after you wistfully hummed to Oruha’s beautiful song, or when he’d admonish you for being so careless after that virtual demon injured you.

Then there’s tonight, where he let you cry and then offered to comfort you intimately, beyond something reassuring words could ever, ever do.

Something starts aching in your chest the moment the blissful haze from his wonderful performance lifts. You hear him shifting on the bed, and by the time you’re able to start moving again you see that Kurogane has raised, sitting on the edge. You can’t see his face anymore; only the back of his head and his strong back for the most part. The bed starts to groan from some weight, but it’s not coming from you. It’s definitely from him, and when enough blood has come back in your head, you then understand what the warrior is suddenly up to.

It’s one thing to hear you moaning and begging, but it’s another to listen to the deep, rich strangled groans coming from Kurogane’s throat as he masturbates. It then registers that after all this time he had gone out of his way to kiss you and hold you and breathlessly undo you that he’s been holding back his own release, and that now it can be his turn. But it doesn’t make sense to you that he has to do this all on his own. It’s not even fair in a sense. In other worlds and circumstances you would hold back, but in Yama, you are comrades, and comrades are supposed to do their fair share of the burden.

But when you crawl over to him and tap his shoulders three times – the assigned code from him when you want to get his attention – and he eyes you and you inch a hand along his abdomen, he shakes his head. Quite vehemently even. At first you feel hurt, even mistrusted, that he doesn’t wish for you to assist him the way he did for you. But when he still keeps his eyes on you and you read them, you understand then that he doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself even more than what you’ve been through the whole night, and that reassures you. _Trust me_ , his eyes convey, and you do. And maybe it’s better this way. There’s no need to make tonight’s bond closer than it already is, and besides it’s dangerous. You can’t get closer, not to him, not to Kurogane of all people – and you don’t want to hurt him after all he has done for you.

These are the thoughts that plague your mind as you lie back down, still facing the back of Kurogane. It’s true that what happened tonight was relatively harmless, even something that you don’t regret. But then you remember that comforting always comes with a price. Even though nobody was harmed in the process and the warrior didn’t show any signs of hostility or manipulation, you can’t help but feel cautious, as if everything will backfire. 

You watch him as he slowly starts losing himself into his very own hand, stroking away feverishly, hearing the faint, slapping noise of friction. His face is still hidden from you. All you can really see are the constriction of his back muscles, the way they alternatively tighten and relax. He keeps his voice low, yet you can still hear the humming noise of ecstasy. For a moment you wonder what goes on in his mind at this very moment, the ones that blur across his heavy lidded eyes as he jerks himself openly with you lying beside him. Perhaps it was someone from his home who he secretly fancied, but the thought of Kurogane sincerely desiring _anyone_ doesn’t seem to fit. And then you begin to wonder if it’s _you_ who’s drifting in his lust-addled brain. It’s something you aren’t necessarily concerned about. The warrior isn’t necessarily in love with you ( _you hope_.) You saw him – even _felt_ him grinning with lust and confidence earlier tonight in bed. Both Celesian men and women have praised about your stunning beauty, so there’s nothing to be alarmed about if Kurogane also simply happens to admire your naked body in all its wonder. 

Still, even though you feel assured that there’s no guarantee that you and he are getting closer as months go by, there’s still that ache burning in your chest. The more you hear Kurogane getting louder and the more you see his body tightening, the more it begins to hurt, physically – so much that if it didn’t escape through any means you feel that you’re going to suffocate slowly and painfully. It builds in your throat and you croak, tongue desperately wanting to move and _speak_.

And then suddenly, without warning, you started blurting about everything. About how all your life you sorely lacked comfort and protection, love and warmth; that how every time you felt safe with someone – your brother, your king – everything and everybody is ripped apart because the entire fault lays on you. How instead of being hurt less, you always seem to hurt others more; how it makes people more cautious around you, how it makes you doubt whether you can ever love and be loved without destruction on your end. 

As he jerks harder you tell him about these secrets, how you feel you have betrayed Ashura-ou and your twin brother, the only people you let yourself love; how you ran away but couldn’t from your guilt. As his breathing becomes shallower and quicker you finally talk about what happened tonight, why you suddenly lost all control the moment that arrow left you and killed that soldier on the spot, why you couldn’t let go of the horrible truth that you always destroy and never heal, hurt and never love recklessly. You never wanted any of this to happen, yet you knew there was no choice, because you need to live so you can bring your brother back to life. These are the things Kurogane may never know, and never have you been glad that he cannot understand anything you are saying, words tumbling out of your native tongue in an uncontrollable mess.

But then he saw you, crying, caught unguarded. You tell him how you were scared how he was going to react, how you didn’t expect him to be so kind and gentle, and even let you cry while he held you; that when he kissed you on the eyelid it changed the atmosphere, how it calmed you. You pause, remembering how it felt when you surrendered in his warm arms, in his deep kisses and all, and how it felt good and right, knowing how much you needed it. His warmth is still there, even though he’s not holding you right now. Just seeing how much he went out of his way to comfort you intimately, without saying anything and without force, really meant a lot to you, and it still does. Maybe not knowing your history is wise, and you don’t blame him if he decided not to comfort you if he were to know the dangers you keep to yourself. But even so, you whisper, the fact that Kurogane didn’t tell you to stop crying, the fact that he didn’t hesitate to offer support and kindness, is something you won’t ever, ever forget.

Just as Kurogane’s whole body relaxed, you burst into tears. They won’t stop, and you don’t intend to hold them back. Because this time, it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. You feel relieved as all of the weight is lifted off of your chest. The secrets are released, yet they still remain secrets. But most of all, you finally feel safe to be loved and assured. For the second time tonight, a wave of bliss soothes you, clearing your mind and cleansing your tainted soul. 

You’re still crying by the time Kurogane finishes cleaning up himself and the bed. He then sits down next to you, where he notices tears trailing down your face. A look of concern spreads across his eyes instantly. He brings a thumb to wipe them away, cradling your face, speaking again in his native tongue in a calmer, concerned melody. And yet that’s all you need to see and hear and feel right now, reassured that he truly does care regardless. So when you smile, a sincere and heartfelt smile, he understands. Crinkled lines disappear from his forehead and reappear around the corner of his mouth as he smiles back warmly and relieved in return.

He then kisses your eyelids one last time before he joins you in bed, arms wrapped around you. You let him hold you close, savoring his warmth and love. The covers are pulled tight and he buries his mouth in the back of your head, peppering kisses in your neck, curling his feet over yours. The little things like these may not last forever, you somberly realize, for when you and Kurogane finally reunite with the three others, it will be back to the usual routine, the usual acts and dancing around everyone. Yet that is later, much, much later. 

This is now. The past will still haunt you, come back to life in all its horror in your dreams – but with the soothing and tender presence of the firm, attentive warrior, you can let those pains go, even if it’s only for a night. And although this is the only world you’ll let your guard down, you will always treasure tonight when you’d let Kurogane indulge you with warmth and affection without guilt or regret. In the land of Yama where lives are at stake each and every night in a never-ending war, he’s all that you have and you’re all that he has, and that, in itself, is comforting, something that won’t ever be taken away. 

You smile as he holds you close, never letting you go, weaving his fingers in yours, and holding them with fondness and affection. You stay like this for a bit, drinking his warmth, breathing to the same rhythm as his. With his tickling breath, body heat, and the steady pulse of his strong heart serving as a lullaby, peaceful exhaustion overcomes your weary body. You close your eyes and finally welcome a much, much needed, dreamless sleep.


End file.
